This time, the voice is louder, closer, and unmistakably Kwame’s.
My stomach lurches and my heart stops, but I keep walking, picking up my pace.
Why, of all people and places, did it have to be here? I race across the street just as the countdown to cross reaches one and the lights turn green.
Only then, with DC’s strict jaywalking laws keeping me safe from Kwame’s pursuit, do I look behind me. As I anticipated, he’s trapped on the other side of the street. His eyes are locked on me and when our gazes meet, he mouths, “Wait.”
I shake my head. His gaze darts to the traffic like he’s searching for an opening so he can cross before the signal changes. Nothing good would come of letting him catch up with me right now. I don’t want to explain what I’m doing there or talk about what happened on Sunday.
When he looks back at me, I wave and shake my head. “Sorry, I’mlate for a meeting. I can’t stop,” I shout across the street. “I’ll message you later.”
His uncertain smile disappears and his eyes narrow with something that doesn’t sit well with me.
I can’t do this now.
I don’t wait for him to respond before I turn around and speed walk. I can feel his eyes on my back as I approach the corner.
The look on his face flashes in my mind’s eye. It was hurt.
He hurt me too, but not intentionally. I showed up at his house without an invitation or warning.
My step falters.
I turn around.
He’s still standing there waiting for the walk signal. He’s dressed in dark blue. His suit and shirt are the same shade. His shirt is open at the collar and the thin gold chain he always wears is visible.
He’s got the sexiest neck.
I shake my head and take a step back.
What am I even going to say? “I wish I’d been the one with your dick in my mouth?”
Why isthatthe first thing on my mind and not questions about the mansion he lives in?
Because it’s possible he’s your sexual soul mate.
Who has a lover already.
I spin on my heel and continue to my car.
My steps are quickandsure now. I can’t avoid him forever, but now is not the time.
My goal is close enough to taste.
Kwame, my curiosity, and my coochie will just have to wait.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kwame
The Good Witch, The Bad Wizard, and the Part-Time Bitch
Sin disappears around the corner, and my gut hollows.
My mother always said my pride was my biggest obstacle to having what I truly want. Maybe she was right, but for a long time, it’s been my compass and a boundary setter.
I stopped chasing people a long time ago and I’ll be damned if I’m going to start now.
